"I think it is Petersburg.

I hate Petersburg." "Why Petersburg more than Moscow or Nijni or--Tver ?" She drew in a long, slow breath, looking him up and down the while from the corners of her eyes.
"I do not know," she replied collectedly; "I think it is damp.

These houses are built on reclaimed land, I believe.

This was all marsh, was it not ?" He did not answer her question, and somehow she seemed to expect no reply.

He stood blinking down into the fire while she watched him furtively from the corners of her eyes, her lips parched and open, her face quite white.
A few moments before she had protested that she desired his friendship.
She knew now that she could not brave his enmity.